


I'll Tell My Ma, When I Go Home

by CaptainLordAuditor



Category: Leviathan - Scott Westerfeld
Genre: M/M, Trans Male Character, mentions of misgendering and homophobia, trans!dylan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-04 00:23:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10978485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainLordAuditor/pseuds/CaptainLordAuditor
Summary: Dylan's reunion with his Ma went about as well as he'd expected.





	I'll Tell My Ma, When I Go Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to infernalplume for pulling me back into leviathan hell

It had gone about as well as he’d expected, in hindsight.

Alright, so he was wearing skirts, just to make her happy just this once, and maybe that had pacified her a wee bit, but it just made him uncomfortable, and after she scolded him she had spent half an hour fawning over her precious daughter back from the war, thanking everything she could that ‘Deryn’ was home safe, despite his loud “I’m  _ fine _ , Ma”s.

And, aye, dinner had been decent, watching Alek eat Scottish food had been entertaining. Poor bugger tried so hard to be polite about everything, but his face made it clear he wasn’t fond of it.

But...barking spiders, the rest of it. His mother was back at trying to press him into a lady, putting sewing in his lap, and he knew she wouldn’t appreciate any of the stories he had about the war. Eventually he’d announced he was going to bed, and marched up to his room.

Everything was exactly the same - the maps and anatomical drawings up on the wall, his da’s goggles by his bed, the quilt covered in cat hair. Blisters, it was like the whole war was a dream and he was fifteen again, getting ready to leave.

He pulled off his skirts, tossing them with relief into his laundry bin and found a pair of his trousers. He wasn’t going to sleep just yet. He took his sketchbook and slumped into the chair by his window, but he didn’t draw anything. Instead he just sat, looking out the window at the lamps of Glasgow. The city was starting to go to sleep, but there were still some beasties and people about. It was the same city he’d left, but it felt like one he’d never seen before, or one he’d seen only in photographs. 

There was a quiet knock on the door, startling him from his thoughts. “Deryn?” it was Alek.

Blisters, of course. Just as he was starting to get somewhere with his thoughts. “Come in.”

The door opened slowly and Alek walked in, sitting on the desk chair and leaving the door slightly open. “Are you alright?”

He didn’t answer at first. “Aye,” he said after a bit. “Aye, I think so. It’s just…”

“Didn’t realise how much things have changed?” Alek sounded heavy.

“Aye….in a way.” His thoughts were coming together now, forming into coherent sentences and feelings that he thought he might be able to express as he looked at the moonlit city. For some reason, it felt easier to say it if he wasn’t looking at Alek. He swallowed, and whispered, “I miss Dylan.”

“Me too.”

He let himself look at Alek now. He looked less heavy, and he sounded sincere. 

He wanted this to be as clear as possible and he swallowed a lump in his throat, trying not to think about what Alek means. “You, you mean….”

Alek smiled and shrugged. “I fell in love with Dylan before I even knew Deryn existed.”

He felt a weight lift off his shoulders and a tightness in his chest empty and flood with relief. “You don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t.” Alek hesitated, then got up and kissed Dylan. He began to pull away but Dylan grabbed him and kept him close. 

“You don’t mind,” he repeated.

“I want you happy.,” Alek replied.

Alek wanted him to be happy. He took a moment to bask in that sentence. “Blisters, you’re daft.”

Alek grinned. “So you’ve told me, many times.”

“Aye, ‘cause it’s barking true. You realise what this means, aye?” Dylan kept his voice as low as he could.

“That you want to stay Dylan.”

“Aye, obviously, you ninny,” Dylan was starting to get exasperated. “But what  _ that _ means - you know, for...for us.”

Alek pulled away and sat down. “You’re not saying -”

“Blisters, no! It’s just… we can’t, you know. Get married, or anything.”

Alek let out a sigh. “I can live with that if it makes you happy, Dylan.”

“Aye, but - but we won’t be able to tell anyone about us, and….” Dylan didn’t let himself finish his sentence. He didn’t want to say what they both knew, which was that Alek was a bit rubbish at keeping secrets.

“When do you want to leave, Dylan?”

Dylan stared at him.

“Anyone can see you’re uncomfortable here, with her shoving all those womens’ things on you! We can make an excuse and leave for London again as soon as you like.”

“Aye, it’s just...I’m afraid if I go now, then I’ll never be able to come back.”

Alek didn’t answer for a moment. “Do you want to be able to come back?”

“I don’t know.” Dylan sighed. “I want - barking spiders, I want to come back, but not like this! I want her to realise I’m her son, not whatever it is she thinks I am. Barking… vagrant daughter or whatever I am to her.”

Alek clasped his hand around Dylan’s. Dylan looked at it, ran his thumb over Alek’s grease-stained nails and wondered. 

“I… I think I’ll tell her tomorrow. Maybe the day after. Before we leave, at least. But I’m not wearing those barking skirts again.” 

“Of course not. Sleep? It is getting late.”

“Aye. Sleep.”

The conversation went about as well as he’d expected. But he had Alek, and he had the sky, and a flat in London when he wasn’t shipped out.

Being a man felt like flying.


End file.
